


Letting Go

by walking_tornado



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: Animal Traits, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walking_tornado/pseuds/walking_tornado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Biggs’ death, Alec deals with the memories of their coming of age in the shadow of Manticore. With Logan still untouchable, Max turns to Alec during her heat, but she isn’t the only one suffering the effect of their feline DNA. (Takes place during episode 2.20 Love Among the Ruins)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> Written for darkangel_bb.

  


_Manticore (Ten years ago)_  


"Hey traitor! Why are you in my bunk?"  


Eleven-year-old Alec steeled his face as he whirled around in a fighting stance. Every unit shuffle was the same. The pecking order established this first day would set the tone until the next reshuffle. First days were important; Alec never repeated a mistake.  


"I’m not a traitor. And it’s not yours." Alec kept his voice calm and steady, reasonable. This particular kid, 533, who had been as far removed from his Common name, Biggs, as Alec had been from his, towered him by at least a foot and had the muscle to match.  


"I saw your picture, 494. We all did! Traitor!" A few heads nodded, but some averted their eyes. Alec spied a couple faces he recognized from his previous unit, but they were too few to mount an effective defense, and he knew that they would not intervene. The trainers frowned on divided units, even more than they did on tightly bonded ones.  


"I’m not him."  


"You have the same traitor blood. Coward! You should never have left Psy Ops."  


That criticism of Manticore was a mistake on Biggs’ part, and may have cost him a small increment of support, Alec hoped. Three years before, Psy Ops had released Alec, after four months of painful evaluation and pre-emptive ‘treatment.’ He had been able to gain a small measure of control over the involuntary twitching and drooling before being thrown in with strangers during the first unit reorganization. Alec suppressed his shudder; he was still taken in for periodic assessments.  


 _Calm down!_ Alec told himself, and steadied his breathing and heart rate. Showing fear would be ruinous right now.  


"I’m not a coward," Alec said. He kept his shoulders soldier-straight as he stared, unwavering, at the tow-headed boy. Alec observed the shifting of weight as Biggs assumed a fighting stance, and knew his own movements were being observed, even more critically, by the surrounding circle of child soldiers. Biggs sneered.  


"Prove it, traitor."

  


***

  
_Seattle (Now)_  


". . . traitor to the citizens of Seattle. This has been an Eyes-Only streaming video."  


Ting. Ting. Alec dropped the key onto the bar counter again and stared at it until its motion ceased. A key was all that Biggs had left. He listened to the television drone on in the corner of the bar and he dropped the key once more from higher up and watched it bounce then still. He ignored the looks from the other patrons in the low-lit place. Unlike at Crash, the clientele here was older, bitter, hardened, and was trying desperately to drink away their memories of better times. It suited him tonight. He waved at the bartender for another drink.  


"It’s your liver, pal," the man said with a shrug, before he poured it and handed it over. Then he efficiently bussed away the empty shot glasses, tumblers and beer steins that had accumulated in front of Alec. Alec finished off another shot of whatever was being passed as tequila, and cursed his stupidly fast metabolism for making it so difficult to get shit-faced. The split knuckle from when he and Joshua had beaten some of the murdering bastards earlier had already begun healing. Lynched. With a twitch of a snarl on his otherwise expressionless face, he prodded the cut with his thumb until a bead of blood began to well up.  


No one had objected when Alec claimed the contents of Biggs’ locker, though he’d heard through the grapevine that White’s people had descended on Jam Pony shortly after he’d left. He had paused before opening his friend’s locker, steeling himself. But whatever he’d needed to find hadn’t been there. The worn key was worth more than the contents of the locker it opened. A change of clothes, a sweater. That’s it. Impersonal, practical, and likely stolen. Nothing to show for an engineered life.  


No one had spoken to Alec when he’d slammed the locker door closed and the sound’s echo had followed him when he strode quickly from the building. Alec had heard his boss’ barking surprise as he walked out the door, but Normal’s objection wasn’t even a blip on his radar.  


Ting. Alec maintained a calm, unemotional detachment as he continued the useless quest to get drunk. Damned metabolism. Fucking Manticore.  


One week. It had been one week since he’d met up with Biggs again. They hadn’t seen each other since before he left on his first solo mission -- Rachel. Fuck. He vaguely recalled Biggs talking to him through his cell bars after that fiasco, but the re-indoctrination had left him a mess with gaping holes in his mind. And who knew what crap they added; he couldn’t rely on anything from that time. Biggs had been away on a deep cover mission when Alec had been released from Psy Ops that last time, shiny new again, and he hadn’t returned before Max burned the place down.  


"Fuck you, Max." Alec slammed back the drink, and pounded the sticky wooden counter for another.  


He ignored the angry murmurings of disgruntled voices around him. The money he’d taken from that group on the other end of the bar had almost run out, and everyone had declined to play pool with him anymore. He could take the bartender and the bouncer after he steamed through this pathetic lot of pissed-off sore losers, he thought, when he heard angry voices goading each other into forcibly taking their money back. It might even be fun, he thought bitterly. Biggs would approve. He was definitely in the mood for something violent. _Fuck them all, too._

  


***

  


He didn’t get his fight. As he sat there, staring at the key in him hand, someone talked the drunken idiots out of doing of something incredibly stupid.  


Alec smelled Max long before he saw her. As someone in the crowded bar walked by, the draft of air from their passing brought with it a faint cinnamon smell, combined with some other spice. Max. He hadn’t seen her, but Alec was certain. And whatever new product she was trying, it definitely worked for her.  


"Aaaleec." Max’s near purr by his ear sent Alec’s eyebrows shooting upwards. He kept Biggs’ key hidden in his hand, stared straight ahead, and hoped Max would take the hint and leave him alone. He should have known better. He closed his eyes and took a final gulp of his beer when he felt her fingers trailing across his back and down his side.  


"Cut it out Max."  


"Joshua said saw you came here after roughing up some guys. Wanted me to check up on you . . . see if you needed a shoulder or something." She paused and her breath caught. "But I have lots of other parts you can have too."  


Alec froze and his libido frantically signaled its interest. Then he frowned.  


Alec turned to look at her, and he wasn’t happy with what he saw. Her breath came faster and her eyes were slightly unfocused. She stood close to him, blanketing his side, a warm presence, there and offering. He tightened his fingers on his drink; if he hadn’t known that she would hate him for it in the morning, he would take her up on the offer. It had been a long time. But he wasn’t the asshole he pretended to be.  


Alec recognized the signs of heat. Hard to forget. The first time it had happened at Manticore, two female soldiers had been removed from his unit for observation, and they had never returned. Shortly afterwards there had been a new policy of gender segregation in the barracks for Manticore’s teenaged X5 soldiers.  


"What’s Logan up to?" He knew Max felt something for him, but he couldn’t tell for sure what it was. An occasional flare of nostrils, a dilation of pupils—he usually attributed it to anger. That was a safe bet with Max. Though it might be possible that she confused desire with anger, Max’s blinders prevented her from seeing anyone but Logan.  


She withdrew and glared, but she didn’t retreat far enough so Alec continued.  


"What does _he_ think about us getting together? You tell him the truth yet? That I had nothing to do with you breaking it off. That I don’t betray my friends."  


 _Prove it, traitor!_ Past memories reached out to stab Alec. He and Biggs had emerged from their first encounter bloody and not exactly friends but no longer enemies. He blinked away the memories, and looked at Max.  


He immediately felt guilty for putting that angry, defensive look on her face. Her separation from Logan was his fault, after all, and every time she looked at him, he knew what she was thinking. Do me a favour: go away. Every time he looked at her, he remembered the disgust she’d shown when he’d begged her for his life. _Do me a favour: go away._  


"You’re an ass," she said. Biggs had accused him of that long before Max.

  


***

  
_Manticore (Three years ago)_  


"Hey, 494, what are you doing?" Alec remembered the surprise of being caught jacking off in the communal shower, when he’d thought that everyone else had gone back to barracks.  
  


"I’m not doing anything," Alec said, turning towards his fellow soldier as he continued working his hand. A lifetime in barracks hadn’t fostered any particular body inhibitions. It had, however instilled a distrust of having an unknown come from behind.  


It had been years since he and Biggs had shared the same unit and, once that unit had been disbanded, Alec had only seen Biggs in the distance but hadn’t spoken to him. An X5’s focus was their own unit, a temporary pseudo-family that had to be kept at arm’s length to avoid losing. Yesterday Biggs’ unit had been separated: a now-standard precaution should a unit prove to be too cohesive. Biggs was the only one to be assigned to Alec’s unit.  


"Just letting off some excess energy," Alec continued. "So . . . you mind?" The angry-annoyed tone should have sent Biggs off to mind his own business, so the hesitancy in the other boy’s demeanor surprised Alec. He hated surprises; they were rarely good.  


"Has . . . has it happened yet?"  


"Has what happened?" he looked down at himself and back to the other boy. "Me getting off? Um, _yes_. Many times, and often. What’s your problem?"  


"No, not that," Biggs rolled his eyes. "The other. . . thing."  


"Don’t know what the hell you’re talking about."  


Biggs sighed and slouched. "You don’t know. Shit," he muttered. "Does anyone in this unit know?"  


"Know what?" Alec asked and saw the boy’s eyes widen. He briefly replayed the conversation, but wasn’t able to come up with anything to explain that fear. Except that apparently other teams knew something that his didn’t. And that was terrifying.  


He released his softening cock—giving up in the wake of his body’s reactions to potential danger—and gave Biggs his full attention.  


_"What_ do we not know?"  


Biggs’s measured look must have found Alec lacking, because the young man backed up with a dismissive smile.  


"Nothing man, just playing with you. Shit, you’re easy!" And he walked away.  


By the time Alec had grabbed his kit and turned off the shower, Biggs was gone.  


Alec kept a vigilant eye on his new unit-mate. Though each unit trained separately, whenever possible Alec tried to observe the others’ activities, searching for signs of what they might know that he didn’t. Biggs brushed the incident away, and shut him down any time Alec brought it up, but Alec saw the near-imperceptible shift in his eyes that belied his words. After a few weeks, when Alec had been taken aside for a physical reprimand for his lack of attention, he conceded that he might have overreacted. Maybe Biggs had, in fact, been having fun at his expense.  


When it happened, it was nothing Alec had expected.

  


***

  
_Seattle (Yesterday)_  


"And," Alec said, in response to Biggs’ glib Kazminikstan comment a few moments before, "the Volkovich job was in Kazakhstan." He had to raise his voice to be heard above the rumble of their motorcycles as they started them up to get to Sector Five.  


"Yeah," Biggs said, and momentarily dropped the facade he’d hid behind since they met up again last week. They had changed, matured, and it would take a bit more time to reach the comfort level they used to share.  


"Meet up after?" Biggs had asked him. Alec had masked his hurt at both his friend’s pretense that he had forgotten the location of the first mission and at the earlier juvenile joking about Lola— _Lolya_ : Biggs never had gotten that right.  


"Yeah." Alec had restrained his excitement, but he suspected that it had showed anyway. To be with someone who already knew, who wouldn’t run screaming if his control slipped, who would have his back if he let down his guard, and who wouldn’t treat him as if he were something scraped off the bottom of a sneaker. . .  


"My place," Alec told him. He caught the corner of a smile before Biggs had pulled ahead of him and hid it from view.

  


***

  


 _When did I become a hero?_ Alec wondered as he watched Max spirit away the freaky white transgenic. Biggs was last of their cape-less trio to get out of Sector Five, and Alec waved him onwards towards Terminal City with a thumbs-up and a cocky grin. Alec would meet up with him later, after a short detour.  


Few stores around sold luxury items, but certain things were in plentiful supply if you knew where to look. Alec did.  


Breaking into a building in daylight usually was a bad move, but Alec knew that this building in particular—Normal’s "burlesque hall" (Alec snickered)—would be deserted until late afternoon. The top floor windows were not reinforced with bars like the lower windows and would have posed no obstacle to any half-decent cat burglar, let alone to someone with Alec’s training. Once inside, he made a bee line for the VIP room, and his face split into a wide grin as he entered. Even with his charm, he hadn’t ever brought with him enough money to bribe his way into this particular room. And if anywhere had a stash of what he was looking for . . . Bingo!  


Small bins made of recycled tin cans sat on the table like party favours, and Alec smiled to see them. Who would have thought that something as ubiquitous as lubricant would be so scarce in a post-Pulse world? He grabbed a handful of small packets of lube and put them into his backpack, picking out a couple stray condoms that had intermixed and replacing them in the condom bin. Those were unnecessary, given the X5s’ natural biological defenses, and they were unlikely to remain intact. 

  


***

  
_Seattle (Now)_  


They’d caught Biggs near Alec’s place—waiting for Alec to return. Together they could have taken out the xenophobic assholes who’d killed him. Alec’s short detour for sex supplies had cost him a lifetime.  


He felt the outline of the lube in his jeans’ pocket like a recrimination. Max’s hand continued down his back and would reach the condemning little packet soon.  


"Leave me alone, Max," Alec said again, and shrugged her hand away. He threw a couple bills on the bar counter to cover his last drink. There wouldn’t be enough for another. He frowned. He and the other freaks had studied it. Normal people got drunk in situations like these. Somewhere, there must be something with enough kick to get him drunk.  


Since Manticore had burned, life was a constant game of "Let’s Pretend." _Let’s pretend I don’t know five different ways to kill that person over there without moving more than my arm. Let’s pretend that the occasional car backfire doesn’t make my hand drop for the gun I shouldn’t have. Let’s pretend that I can sit here and get sloshed. Let’s pretend that, even with all their insane crap, I don’t sometimes miss Manticore. . ._  


Max still glared. The key that fell from his palm to the counter drew her attention, and the angry glare receded. He waited for whatever ignorant platitude she would offer. Anything had to be better than Normal’s response: "Sorry. A sad thing, sure. But, you know, you all barely knew the guy." It had brought Alec a knife’s edge from violence. He didn’t even want to think about what was being said now that Biggs’s transgenic status was known.  


"Alec," Max said. Alec focussed on a point on the wall, but he could picture her searching for something to say, some useful tidbit about her Manticoran brothers and sisters who had died. Alec couldn’t handle it right now; he barely held himself together as it was.  


"Shut up." His voice came out flat and toneless, not angry or upset, just tired. She frowned at him, and he released a breath of a laugh at the picture of her trying to wrap her mind around his experiences. Sometimes he felt they came from different planets. Explaining to her the difference between a child’s experience, and a young adult’s . . . Alec wouldn’t even know where to begin. She’d been back in for what? A few months last summer. Kept safe in one of the private cells. Nothing close to the same thing. Some days he thought he might need to parachute down the gulf between them.  


He smelled another whiff of the pheromones generated by her heat, and he saw her blatantly check out a guy who’d just walked in from outside. Casual sex. That’s what she wanted tonight. Something easy. He ground his teeth together.  


Just as he could not imagine how confusing it would be to go through a first heat, alone and away from anyone who could tell her what was going on with her body, she had no idea—none—about the terror that puberty had brought to those who remained. He was thankful to Manticore that whatever drug regiment they had been on had delayed—or maybe stretched out—puberty. It had been bad enough at eighteen. He shuddered.

  


***

  
_Manticore (Three years ago)_  


Alec couldn’t catch his breath. He gripped the edge of his bed, closed his eyes, and concentrated on breathing. In, out. In, out. When the sparkles on the edges of his vision had receded he moved to a seated position with shaky legs and tried to regain his composure.  


 _Anomaly._ A new name for him now that he’d disproved ‘traitor’ over the years. _Please, no! Not an anomaly_.  


His mind refused let up, and it helpfully supplied him with memory after memory of snarling caged monsters and of children dragged away and strapped onto gurneys, never to be seen again.  


"Hey, you okay?" Biggs’s unwelcome voice cut through the montage of horror and sent a heart-stopping shot of adrenaline to his body.  


"Fine!" Alec said, too fast. Fuck! Calm. He had to calm himself and think.  


Biggs frowned, and Alec saw him catalogue the room at a glance, searching for potential dangers. In the last few weeks, he’d proved himself an efficient soldier, and had seamlessly merged with the unit. Finding no obvious threats, Biggs sat beside him. The hard cot didn’t budge. Alec shifted away, turning his body more towards the wall. His traitorous dick lay limp and Alec contemplated cutting the damned thing off. At least he would have no more inappropriate thoughts featuring his female sparring partner. Any such ideas had fled his mind at a dead run.  


"Saw you get written up for extra practice," Biggs said.  


Of course he had, Alec thought. His partner had trounced him in his distraction. At the first available moment, Alec had gone to the showers to jack off. He was left with a reddened, scrapped palm.  


 _Anomaly_.  


Suddenly Biggs’ face was in front of him.  


"It happened?" Biggs whispered, and gave a pointed glance to Alec’s crotch.  


Panic. Alec’s eyes roved wildly around as he frantically tried to come up with a plan. Biggs stood up and looked around at the people around them then he grabbed Alec’s arm.  


"Come on."  


Alec’s reaction was immediate.

Biggs rubbed his eye from Alec’s punch. If not for the X5’s healing ability, it would have turned into an impressive bruise. Alec didn’t bother to apologize for the punch once he realized that Biggs was not turning him in. Biggs knew something about this and hadn’t warned him.  


"What’s happening?" Alec wanted it to come out firm, demanding, strong—not hesitant and trembling. Fuck, he sounded lost, even to himself. Manticore would eat him alive. And rightfully so. He took a steadying breath and stamped out the rising panic of his worst nightmare come true, using the techniques that had been drilled into him for nearly two decades.  


"Good," Biggs said. Alec looked up to see his appraising stare. "I tried to warn you—"  


"What? When?"  


"The shower."  


"Fuck off. That cryptic shit wasn’t a warning." Though, it kind of was, Alec admitted to himself. He had known something wasn’t right. He should have been more dogged in his attempts to decipher it. Anomaly.  


"I couldn’t risk it. Not until . . ." Biggs waved his hand again toward Alec, his only explanation for things Alec already understood. It sucked, not being in the loop, but if the positions had been reversed, Alec would not have trusted Biggs to keep that secret from Manticore, not until he had some reason to trust him.  


"What is it?" Alec whispered, looking around. He wanted to simultaneously run around in circles screaming and use every escape and evade technique he had ever known to disappear.  


"Barbs." Biggs looked at him steadily. "Or spines, or hooks . . . whatever. Far as I can tell, about a quarter of the X5 series have had them, but I’m expecting more. I’m expecting every male soldier to develop them.  


"Why?"  
"All female X5s have a heat. Cat DNA."  


Manticore.  


"They know?" Simply saying the words sent another spike of adrenaline through him. He felt traitorous for even thinking of not reporting it.  


"No." Biggs met Alec’s stare. "They might not be willing to let it slide. As far as I know, everyone who has them has agreed to keep it quiet."  


"Who. . ." Alec didn’t bother finishing the question.  


Alec imagined the commander blithely giving the order to terminate half of the otherwise healthy X5 population. "They wouldn’t do that. We’re too valuable a military asset."  


"Maybe. You going to take that chance?"  


"No." Alec shook his head even before Biggs had finished speaking. "What the hell are they, anyway? They’re hard." He looked at the scrapes on his palm. "Sharp."  


"Keratin, I think. Like fingernails nails. That’s the consensus."  


Alec remained quiet for a beat. "How?" he asked. "How do I stop it?"  


"I don’t know."  


"Can anyone?"  


Biggs finally looked away. "Don’t think so." After a moment he continued.  


"Do—" A bell sounded and Biggs immediately got up and without any further word, started moving at a slow jog to his assigned lesson.  


Instead of rushing to join his drills practice, Alec sat there, wondering if he would ever be able to have sex again. 

  


***

  
_Seattle (Now)_  


"You’ve had enough," Max told Alec. Even though he not planned to order another, her presumption stiffened his back.  


"Barkeep!" he called out, and he waved the man over. The bartender scowled at him and glanced a question at Max. She must have shaken her head, because, the man nodded and took the empty glasses from Alec.  


"Cutting you off, son," the man said. "Don’t even know how you’re still conscious."  


"Not your son," Alec muttered, but it wasn’t heard in the noise of the bar, other than by Max. Damned Manticore. He thought she might be looking at him with pity, so he refused to look at her. She wouldn’t leave, but he certainly didn’t have to acknowledge her presence. He stood up and walked directly to the door, refusing to sidestep anyone in the crowded bar. Angry yells followed in his wake. No one hit him though, not even a shove, and he thought that was probably Max’s fault too.  


Biggs’ key felt like a brick in his pocket, and the weight dragged at him as Alec walked away from the bright lights and into the shadows.

  


***

  
_Manticore (Three years ago)_  
</p>

Like other Manticore child soldiers, who had grown up together in close quarters, Alec wasn’t self-conscious of his body. So when he began turning away from the others in his unit when he dressed, and when he opting for the stalls to relieve himself, he drew a few odd stares. But now it was dangerous.  


Their unit consisted of twelve X5 soldiers, of varying ages from fourteen to nineteen. While some had certainly passed through their extended puberty, many hadn’t and rested in the knowledge that anomalies were things that happened to others, and needed to be immediately reported. Repercussion for withholding information could be deadly. Alec trusted his brothers and sisters daily with his life, but this went beyond trust: it was a question of loyalty. Biggs had been right not to tell him. Alec would have turned him in. The implications of not doing so were unthinkable; Manticore had made sure of that.  


Alec now planned his exploratory jerk-off sessions as if her were making up a mission plan. It wasn’t about pleasure or want. He needed to test the limits of his changed body to avoid making a fatal mistake some day.  


A cleaning supply closet was the most accessible private area he had found. The rigid military schedule of the base ensured that Alec knew when the area was more likely to be accessed. He’s only been caught once, and fortunately it had been before he had gotten very far. The non-X5 soldier who had found him had seemed more amused than anything else, and the generous bribe that Alec had given him had ensured his silence. Alec had thought about with more permanent ways of silencing him, but the practical difficulty of disposing of a body made it untenable. The man’s later participation in a small mercantile arrangement had showed it to be a lucky decision.  


Despite his efforts, Alec had yet to accomplish his goal: he was unable to come without the barbs flaring. Every time, the little keratin hooks emerged just before his release. If he wasn’t careful, they scraped his hand, like coarse sandpaper.  


Under the too-low light fixture that highlighted the dust in the closet with each of his movements, Alec looked down at the hard length in his hand and, frowning, applied more pressure with his thumb and forefingers to allow a large bead of precum to well up. As the slow stoke approached the head of his cock, the three alternating rows of little spines emerged painlessly from the base of the head in response to the pressure. He had tried removing a spine, the first time. Despite steeling himself against the pain, and trying to keep hold of the tiny barbs, it hadn’t worked. He ended up with pricked fingers and a sore cock.  


This time Alec pressed on a barb on the lowest row. With the pressure from his right hand keeping the little hook firmly out, with his left hand he tried to force it inwards, gently at first then harder. It retreated as he pushed on it, but not nearly far enough. If he was unable to keep a single spine in, there was no way a condom would suppress it, even assuming he’d be able to find one that wouldn’t break. The manipulation of the barb felt good and sent a pleasant tingle to his groin. Another finger brushed against them, and he caught his breath. Then he gave up.  


He began to stroke in earnest, hand moving quickly over his cock—smooth again now the spines had retreated after the immediate pressure of his hand was removed. They emerged once more as he approached release. As he lost himself to the feeling, his hand brushed the hard barbs and created jolts of pleasure that overshadowed the abrasion. Alec came, with a shuddering inhale to suppress any sound, and the stiffening of his cock as he came flared the barbs outward and scraped the palm of his hand.

  


***

  


"How’s practice going?" Biggs said when they stood beside each other in line in mess hall. Alec thought back to their underwater demolition drills that morning before clueing in to what Biggs was asking.  


"I don’t know what I’m supposed to practice," Alec whispered, conscious of the nearby soldiers, and he chose his words carefully. "I can’t get it not to do that."  


"You won’t be able to," Biggs told him, and shrugged. "That’s just how it is. You have to—" He looked around before he continued. "You have to practice stopping before it happens."  


"Why? What’s the point of that?"  


"If you have to get close to a target, to get information . . ? Would be kind of a giveaway that something isn’t right. You’ve got to perform . . . but not."  


 _Shit._ Biggs was right.  


"Understand?"  


He did.

  


***

  
_Seattle (Now)_  


Max caught up with Alec before he’d rounded the corner. She said nothing, just walked beside him, a solid presence at his side.  


"He was coming to see me," he said, and she heard him clearly only due to her X5 genes. He hadn’t initially meant to talk to her; the plan had been to ignore her and she’d go away. "His place is across the city. He’d have gone back home, or to Terminal City." _And have been safe._  


"It’s not your fault."  


"Never said it was." They continued in silence. "You don’t have to stay. I’ve known people who’ve died before. Killed a number of them. Not going to lose it over just another death."  


"So where are we going?" Max asked, as if he hadn’t spoken.  


_"I’m_ going home."  


"I’ll come with."  


He didn’t bother arguing with her.

  


  
_Seattle (Two weeks ago)_  


 _A small breeze_ , Alec wished, _just a breath of wind . . . please_. He took a gulp of water from his saddlebag, and thought that it would be more efficient just to splash it over himself instead of waiting for it to be sweated out: get rid of the middleman and the final result would be the same. The humidity must be only a fraction of a percentage point away from being actual rain, and Alec switched to asking for rain instead.  


A shuffle of feet forward and he was that much closer to the goal. With increased rationing of fuel, waiting in the long lines to fill up was not a task he trusted to others. He’d talked his way to the middle of the line, with only minimal threats to his life. Any closer would bring the unwanted attention of the police patrolmen who stood off to the side, watching. Only about twenty people stood between him and the front of the line. So long as they didn’t run out today . . . A shout from behind only grabbed his attention because it was his name that carried over the cacophony, bringing attention that he didn’t appreciate. The line behind him stretched around down the block, but he picked out Biggs’ waving hand and his eyes widened in shock. With a stunned smile he raised his hand in response. He’d never expected to see the other man again.  


Within a couple days, Alec had set Biggs up with a job, a sector pass, and a place to crash. He may have been showing off a bit. Away from Manticore, Alec revelled in an honest-to-goodness friendship, and not with someone he owed, or who wanted something from him. Original Cindy teased him about his little bromance enough already; Alec hated to think what he’d have to put up with had she or Max known of their past.

***

  
_Manticore (Three years ago)_  


Alec and Biggs had marched, stone-faced and silent, back to their barracks. The rest of the unit had left to eat, and only when the door shut, did both men show any expression. Biggs’ eyes lit up and he vaulted onto his bunk with a muffled whoop. Alec cracked a wide smile and flopped down beside him.  


"This will be awesome!" Alec said. Then he repeated it in Kazakh, and in Russian, just because he could.  


"Show-off," Biggs said, repeated in a similar manner, and he grinned. "So, _Miras_ , you hungry?"  


"After you, _Sanzhar_ , sir." Alec stepped back to let the other man lead the way.  


"Oh, I’m going to like that sir," Biggs said. "Guess I’m just superior in every way."  


The shove Alec directed to his side deteriorated into close quarters grappling, done at blurred speed until Biggs pinned Alec with a potentially killing grip on his trachea. Momentary eye contact conveyed Alec’s acknowledgement, and both got up and straightened their clothes. Alec took a step into the corridor to go meet up with the others in the mess hall—Wednesday was burgers—but Biggs’ hand on his forearm held him back. Alec turned to see Biggs chewing his lip. He waited.  


"I . . ." Biggs sighed then started again. "You heard them. I have to distract the commandant’s wife. He has to catch us _in flagrante delicto_." Alec nodded. Lydecker had been clear: the commandant needed to be embarrassed in front of his superiors so Alec had to ensure that the husband entered at the correct time. He never bothered to tell them why and neither of them had even considered asking.  


The uncertainty in Biggs’ face made something click for Alec and he understood. A fuck-up on this mission would have far-reaching political and military repercussions, not to mention that it would trigger a debrief and another trip to Psy–Ops.  


He looked up to find Biggs watching him.  


"Can I help?" Alec said.  
***  


Alec’s knee slid on a mop and he lurched forward before he steadied himself with a hand on Biggs’ bare thigh. The motion sent Biggs’ cock deeper to butt against the back of his throat. Alec gagged and the fluttering of his throat teased a groan from Biggs. Alec pulled back with gulping breaths and blinked away the unintentional tears as Biggs steadied him. Alec smirked up at him and immediately returned to engulf Biggs’ cock. With a bitten back grunt, Biggs yanked his cock away from Alec, leaving a trail of spit that settled coldly on Alec’s chin.  


"Still good?" Alec asked with a small cough.  


"Yeah. Yeah, I’m good." Biggs paused for a few breaths. "I think this might kill me."  


Alec shook his head. "You can do this," he said. "You have to. Think you can handle more?"  


Biggs paused before answering.  


"Okay."  


Alec stripped off his pants and turned his back to Biggs. Alec heard the snick of Biggs opening their black-market lube. He widened his stance, and breathed out as Biggs’ lube-covered fingers slipped in. He was still stretched from the finger play and rimming earlier. Alec hadn't thought his friend able to bring himself back from the edge, but he had. Impressive control, Alec had thought. Alec's own release spattered one of the closet walls. 

Biggs’ hand lay reassuringly on Alec’s back, and Alec tried to not to think too hard about what his friend was doing. It had been Alec’s idea, after all.  


Alec had never gone beyond an occasional blow-job since discovering his anomaly, and then only with Biggs; no one else knew, and Alec preferred it that way. He suspected his friend felt much the same. Alec wished he'd have enjoyed himself more, before, without fear that either he or his partner would lose control.  


He felt Biggs adjust his position, and he felt the hard warmth of the man’s cock slide down the crack of his ass until it stopped, with increasing pressure, against his opening.  


"You good?" Biggs said. Alec swallowed and nodded.  


"Okay, relax. I’ll go slow." Biggs’ thumbs parted the cheeks of Alec’s ass and the blunt head of his cock pressed slowly forward. Biggs let his breath blow out against Alec’s neck as he breached him. Alec’s breath came in small uneven pants. He furrowed his brow as he tried to relax but he was unable to let go of the image of spikes through his rectum. As if part of a self-fulfilling prophecy, Alec’s ass clenched around the intrusion, and Biggs’ breath hitched at the sudden pressure.  


"Stop—relax . . . I can’t. . ." Biggs said.  


Alec tried again to relax, unsuccessfully, and Biggs’s cock was seized by the spasms of Alec’s muscles. Already on edge due to prolonged denial, Biggs groaned and, with a sudden jerking shove, he thrust in forcefully and their bodies met with a slap. Alec couldn’t withhold a yell as he was overtaken by pain. When the haze lifted, and he was able to gasp trembling breaths, Biggs was fully seated against him, with his balls pressed against Alec’s. Biggs’s grip was painfully tight on his hips.  


"Shit! Oh shit, I’m sorry, I couldn’t, I can’t . . ." Biggs babbled his apology. Only then did Alec feel the small added stretch as Biggs’ cock pulsed deep within him. It hurt. Alec’s eyes flew wide and he scrambled forward in an instinctual attempt to free himself, as adrenaline jolted him into a primitive fight or flight response.  


"No! Wait!" Biggs’ warning came too late. Alec’s motion pulled at the barbs that had set into the delicate tissues of his channel. Alec screamed. Half in, half out of Alec, and still spurting occasional pulses of come, Biggs slapped a hand over Alec’s mouth.  


"Dammit! You’ll bring them! Just stay still." The tone of command broke though Alec’s panic and he forced himself to take long slow breaths. When Alec had stopped fighting, Biggs continued. "I can’t. If I take it out now it will cause more damage. You have to wait for it to go away. Please. I’m sorry, but . . ."  


"Okay." Alec’s voice came out squeaky and thin. Maintaining that position, upright and half-way in, proved difficult. The barbs angled in such a way not to cause damage going in (and Alec willed away the images of shark teeth that sprang to mind), so a fully-seated position might have been more comfortable for both of them, but Biggs never asked and Alec never offered. When Biggs’s spines had retracted, he withdrew and collapsed into a ball, as far away from Alec as the storage closet would allow. Alec could feel wetness slowly flowing from his ass and down his leg. He wiped at it and his fingers came away covered in Biggs’ release, now tinted bright red with Alec’s mingled blood.  


Alec slowly lowered himself next to Biggs, teeth clenched against the stabbing sensation, but he was unable to steady his breathing as the movement sent lightning bolts of pain to his core. When he had settled himself, he wrapped his trembling arms around Biggs and held him as his friend shook with silent sobs.  


Anomalies.

  


***

  
_Seattle (Now)_  


Alec unlocked the door and walked into his place without so much as a glance at Max. He heard the click of the latch and assumed she came in. He headed directly to his couch, threw himself down, and closed his eyes. He heard footsteps approach and knew that Max was standing beside his shoulder.  


"Leave anytime." He covered his eyes with his arm and wished her away.  
"What’s going on Alec?"  


 _It’s 494_ , he wanted to reply. _Another failed attempt at creating a human_. But he said nothing. Max didn’t deserve that. _Go away_.  


"You had nothing to do with Biggs’s death." She sat next to him of the edge of the sofa, and he felt her hand touch his shoulder.  


"Broken record, much?" he said, but his voice was muffled by his sleeve.  


"Asshole much?"  


"What do you want from me, Max?"  


She didn’t reply, but moved her hand to his cheek and tilted his head to hers. He lips were soft and supple, burning and insistent. She seemed to know exactly what she wanted.  


He pulled his head back, pressing it further into the arm of the sofa. "Logan. . ."  


"Logan can’t help with this." He heard the frustration in her voice. "Alec, I . . . it’s . . . I need this."  


The heat. It would be someone. He wondered if Logan would rather it be him or a stranger. Bleeding heart, goody-two-shoes that Logan was, Alec suspected that he would put aside his dislike and opt for Max to be with a friend—acquaintance. It would be safer for her. And for him, he realized with a start. Max: an X5, a soldier, someone who might understand.  


She kissed him again, and this time Alec wrapped his arms around her and clasped her to him as he sought her tongue. He could give her this: kissing and groping. He’d had lots of practice. Anything else . . . not so much, despite what everyone assumed. And groping wasn’t what Max had in mind. And in the shadow of Biggs’ death, all his insecurities welled up.  


"I can’t do this Max. You don’t want this."  


"Dammit! Stop telling me what I want! No one owns me. Me and Logan . . . complicated. Am I in heat? Yeah. Can I still make my own decisions? Hell yeah. So what is your problem? You’ll do it with everyone else but not me, that it?"  


"No! I don’t do it with everyone else. . ." From the flash in her eyes that wasn’t the direction he should have gone. It was true though. "I’ve never . . . you know . . . done it." Alec’s lip curl showed what he thought of the Common euphemism. "Not with any of those girls anyway. Not with anyone for a few years." His experiences with Biggs were none of her business.  


"Yeah, right."  


"Seriously Max." He didn’t know why it was important that she believe him. "Those girls . . . Suki and um . . . Marina . . ." Another mistake. He should never have tried to go for their names; they were unimportant, bricks in a wall, all part of the years-long charade. "Okay, we did stuff, but I kept it in my pants." Max didn’t look as if she believed him. "I’m being honest here! Strictly her-pleasure only." Alec grinned."Why do you think they were fighting over me? I’m a pro." His grin lost its humour and he looked away.  


When the silence had dragged on long enough, he looked up to find Max’s flushed regard turned towards him.  


"Show me." She grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him to the couch and down to cover her.  


The X5 speed proved especially useful to divest oneself of clothing. He showed her everything he knew, all his tricks, and by the end they were sticky, panting, and covered in sweat.  


As she came again, Max sobbed in frustration. Orgasms without penetration were not enough, not to satisfy the heat. When Max made clear, once again, what she wanted, Alec gave in. It would be a fitting wake for his friend.

  


***

  
_Kazakhstan (Three years ago)_  


Lolya assumed the two young men, who sported identical, slightly outgrown, military brush cuts, had come to Semey, like so many others, to see the big military parade and to-do this afternoon. It was all anyone talked about. The eyes of the world would be watching their little corner and would see how diligently they had worked to secure any unexploded munitions and nuclear detritus surrounding Semipalatinsk’s abandoned nuclear test site.  


Young men like that, with such striking good looks, did not often frequent this particular establishment. They usually flocked to the discotheque a couple blocks away, which played more current music to cater to a younger, hipper crowd. When she’d first flirted with them while serving their supper, Lolya had thought they were lost.  


The taller, darker one had introduced himself as Sanzhar, and the fairer supermodel claimed to be Miras. Now, listening to their prattle, to the youthful boasting, Lolya smiled. So eager to impress. She could work with that. It would be an enjoyable night, though probably unprofitable. Listening was her stock in trade, the right information in the right ears, and these two were too young to know anything of value.  


Initially something seemed off when they ordered their meal in flawless Russian. It was too perfect, and the occasional Kazakh slang they dropped in was too precise, not easy enough. As the evening wore on, and the lounge became more crowded, she decided she must have been mistaken; they now spoke with the ease of those born in the region. She had accepted their invitation to sit out of curiosity, and she had thanked them for the offered glass of wine—though she carefully watched Old Stanis pour it for her. They didn’t seem like the sort who would spike a drink, but caution had always served her well.  


They flirted outrageously and tipped well. Most interesting of all, she overheard Sanzhar murmur to his friend in a foreign language. While not a fluent speaker, she could easily identify the handful of languages used in the region and this was not among them. She knew someone who liked keeping track of the goings on of foreigners, and so Lolya began her seduction plan to get them into bed.  


It proved to be simple. When the food had been taken away and the conversation lulled, Sanzhar lowered head to let his dark hair brush her cheek.  


"So Lola, how much for two?" he said in a breathy whisper. He did not even blink at the sum she named.

  


***

  


Lolya’s apartment door clicked shut and the sound acted as a trigger for all three of them. They had walked up the rusting metal stairs on the side of the bar to arrive at Lolya’s apartment. All three had been laughing and having fun. The door clicked shut and they all looked at each other.  


Lolya smiled. Miras moved first.  


Miras’ hand brushed her cheek and he tangled his fingers in her hair. He seemed fascinated by her hair, twining his fingers in it and letting the strands fall between his fingers. As Sanzhar stepped into her and became a warm pillar against her back, Miras closed his eyes and brought a lock of her hair to caress against his cheek.  


Through the fabric of his pants, Sanzhar’s arousal pressed against her lower back, and he held her tightly against him with one arm as the other hand traveled the length of her body, coming back, time and again, to tweak her nipples beneath her blouse. In little time, both Sanzhar and Lolya were shirtless, though Miras had yet to remove an article of clothing.  


The tracing of Sanzhar’s hands down her side spoke of experience and bodily awareness. The way Miras kissed the base of her throat, and rubbed small circled into the palm and wrist of her hand spoke of knowledge of the human body’s responses. Lolya smiled. After the countless middle-aged politicians she had entertained for the good of her country, it was definitely time for a night like this.  


She tilted her head and felt Sanzhar place burning kisses along the back of her neck that sent sparks down her spine. Miras bent down to envelop a nipple. He flicked it with his tongue— not so gently that she could barely feel it, and not so hard as to be painful: just right. Miras jutted his hip forward again, letting her feel the hardness of his cock. She complied with the unvoiced request. Lolya carefully unzipped his jeans, managed to undo the button without undue fumbling, and began to slide them down his legs. She was intent on getting to her knees, but his hands stopped her. And just like that, her offer of a blowjob (and at no extra cost) had been gently rebuffed. Her mind whirled; in her experience, guys never refused a blowjob.  


"You first," Miras whispered. His eyes sparkled but for a moment she almost thought the cocky self-assurance masked nervousness. He smiled almost apologetically, and returned to pay attention to her nipples.  


She let her hand wander and at every turn, they encountered wandered everywhere, warm sweat-covered. She was encased in a furnace. Hands traced her breasts, cupped them, and squeezed them. Fingers teased her nipples. Other hands knocked the first ones away, and a playful batting for dominance ensued. Then Miras laughed against her shoulder and abandoned her breasts to Sanzhar. Miras descended to his knees, and let his hand slide the length of her body to settle low on her hips. His mouth settled lower and she moaned to encourage him on.  


Good lord! Unlike the fumbling of most young men, these two were pros. In little time, the rest of her clothes littered the floor and she held the attention of both men. They used hands and lips, tongue and teeth—and a memorable use of feet that she hadn’t imagined—to bring her over the edge again and again.  


"Enough. Please." Lolya laughed, but the request was serious. She reclined, exhausted on the rumpled bed, with her head lying against Miras’ chest and her legs tangled in Sanzhar’s arms.  


They’d taken turns, with hands and mouths, but their dicks had remained in their boxers. She didn’t know what she was doing wrong.  


They had shucked their pants earlier, which had made her think that their cocks would be used in short order, but their underwear remained stubbornly in place. When his pants had hit the floor, Miras had taken a step forward and gently knocked her to the bed to slip two fingers into her as Sanzhar laved her clit with kitten licks. Later Miras had rimmed her as she knelt over Sanzhar who had not wanted to relinquish his prize. It had been like winning the lottery.  


Now she gently pushed Miras away when he went down again. It was too much now; her clit was oversensitive and needed a break from the attention. She tilted her head down to look at Sanzhar. "What about you? What do you want?" she asked. They exchanged looks.  


"It’s up to you," Miras said. "You don’t have to. . ." He trailed off, apparently unable to frame his request.  


"Out with it, sweetie. I’m up for anything."  


"One rule. Just relax, watch, and don’t touch." Sanzhar had come up behind Miras to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. She raised her eyebrows. Given everything she had seen, she didn’t understand why he would need the encouragement—or reassurance.  


"Alright." She shrugged.  


Sanzhar nodded, and they both removed their underwear, tense and business like. They stood together at the foot of the bed and exchanged a look.  


Lolya let her gaze wander from one to the other and smiled.

  


***

  
_Kazakhstan (Three years ago)_  


Lolya still shuddered through her orgasm, when Biggs withdrew and came with three quick jerks of his fisted erection. His face showed a mixture of concentration and pleasure, but when he opened his eyes, it was the relief of accomplishment that shone through. It could be done.  


Biggs held Lolya as they came down. From her other side, Alec gently traced the contours of her face, and let his hands travel her body. When his hands encountered Biggs’ arm, where he held her, Alec continued his motions up Biggs’ arm to his sweat drenched chest, following the hard muscles that twitched under Alec’s touch. Biggs’ stare never left Alec’s face. When Lolya responded to Alec’s caress by turning her face into his hand, Biggs gave a small nod at his friend and leaned in.  


"Think you’re ready for more?" he said to Lolya, in his perfect Kazak. And Alec remembered those same words, said in the dark of a closet, not long ago. It didn’t help with his nervousness.  


"Oh, honey, I’m always ready," she said with a bright smile, dulled a bit by the post-coital lassitude. Though Biggs’s never moved, the slight changes in his body position indicated to Alec that it was now his show.  


Alec hesitated, and Lolya smiled at him.  


"First time?" she said, with a little smirk, letting him in on the joke.  


Her eyes widened in surprise when he nodded. It was sort-of true.

  


***

  


"Just don't move," Biggs whispered, switching out of Kazakh. "It's okay. Just stay still." Biggs lay behind Alec, and the weight of his body kept Alec sandwiched against Lola. Biggs hand had found its way to Alec's thigh, and the steady, deliberate strokes grounded Alec and helped him fight the urge to pull away. It had been going so well, Alec thought. Until he messed it up.  


They had engaged Lola, as per mission specs. Research had suggested that she was most likely to choose Biggs, but with a 40% probability of her being more attracted to Alec, both operatives were sent in. As the evening wore on, Lolya had made her preference obvious, and it had been Biggs' idea to invite Alec along.  


As Alec continued to pounded into Lolya, he began to lose his rhythm. His eyes widened and he attempted to stop the stuttering thrusts. As he began to withdraw, Lolya unexpectedly pulled him back into her then she threw her head back with a soundless moan. Her vaginal walls hugged** his cock and her legs kept him from easily backing away without hurting her. With a small keen, he lost control and the force of his climax whited out his vision. In a corner of his mind, he noted the tingling sensation of the spines piercing the condom and setting themselves into Lolya's vaginal wall. It felt incredible. The tickling, tingling sensation of a slight pull against the spines ratcheted up the pleasure and he gave himself to it. He instinctively knew that the withdrawal would pull against the spines and craved that culmination. Only Biggs sudden press against his back brought him back to himself and prevented his abrupt withdrawal.  


"I know," Biggs was still saying. "Rein it in. Just stay; don't move. _Miras_?" The use of his fake identity brought with it the thought of Manticore, and Alec froze. Biggs had resumed the small grounding stokes of his thigh, and Alec could feel the weight of his balls and half-hard cock against his ass.  


Alec looked at Lolya in concern, waiting for questions, but the woman simply smiled, and drew him in for a deep kiss.  


"Mmm," she said. Alec and Biggs exchanged glances, and Alec was shocked that she hadn't seemed to notice.  


"Physiology." Biggs whispered. "Anal wall is thinner, more fragile. Just don't move."  


It didn't take long for his cock to soften, and with it, the spines retracted. As soon as he could, Alec slipped free and moved quickly to remove the condom that had been pierced and shredded. The head of the condom dangled from a remaining strand of latex that hadn't been pulled apart. He wrapped the condom in a tissue from the little bedside table and stuffed it into his jeans pocket. He'd have to dispose of it elsewhere, where it could not be traced to him.  


"Okay, boys," Lolya said, "Old Stanis is covering my shift for me, but he'll be pissed off if I keep him waiting too long." 

  


"You could come back tomorrow," Lolya said as she pulled on her shirt. Miras pulled on his second boot and smiled sadly. "I’d love to, but I can’t. This one," he jerked his head toward Sanzhar with an arched eyebrow, as if including her in on a secret, "has a hot date with the wife of one of the generals."  


"Oh, really!" she said, noting the information to relay later. She knew a number of generals. "Dangerous."  


"That’s what makes it fun," Sanzhar said, and he leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Been a pleasure."  


She walked them back downstairs and through the lounge. As soon as the door closed behind them, Lolya walked behind the bar, with a wave to Old Stanis, and dialed a number she had memorized.  


"Furry Friends Pet Store!" said a chipper voice. "This is Marco. How can I help you?"  
"My goldfish is stuck in the washing machine," she said, and listened for the response.  


"Sorry to hear that. Let me direct you to Customer Service." After a series of clicks, she ended up on hold listening to pan flutes. A touch to her elbow made her start, and she turned her head to see Old Stanis at her side. Wordlessly, he nodded to one of the tables, where Miras stood, taking his forgotten jacket off the hook. He wore an odd smirk, and when he saw her watching him it turned into a full smile. He gave a little wave as he walked back out, carrying his jacket. She frowned. The flutes cut off and she heard her contact’s clipped voice.  


"Yes? Tell me."

  


***

  
_Seattle (Now)_  


Alec caught his breath as he entered Max. He pushed forward slowly, carefully, and maintained an iron grip on his self-control— until Max dug her heel into his buttocks and _pulled_. A woof of breath escaped him as his body pinned Max to the ground. He remained immobile as he absorbed the feeling of his cock wrapped in warmth, pressure in all the right areas. His assassin training noted the increase in his breathing and he struggled to tamp down memories of his blood-covered hand and of a sobbing figure crouched in a dank supply closet.  


Anomaly.  


Perhaps it wouldn’t carry the stigma in Terminal City that it did in Manticore, but every time Max would look at him she would know. Max would understand, he thought, and resisted the urge to quash that sliver of hope. He had to tell her though. He pushed his upper body back a bit to gain a better angle to see her face, and the motion drove him deeper into her. Max gave a frustrated whine.  


"Faster," she said, between gritted teeth. "Come on!" He felt the pleasure jolt as she bucked again, to get him to move. He kept control, and refused his body’s urging to claim.  


With an annoyed grunt, Max’s leg moved down to trap his, then she bridged and rolled them over. They fell off the couch and Alec‘s head struck painfully on the hard floor. The jolt of a landing bounced Max on his cock, and Alec’s eyes rolled back at the pleasure sparked by the rough friction, and he felt his control slip. She sat up and the motion drove Alec’s length in even further. He simply stared at her. Her pupils were blown open with pleasure, and the sweat of the heat dripped down her face. Alec could have sworn he heard a purr. Then she moved, rocking back and onto him again. As she began riding him in earnest, she bent down and panted out into his ear, "More."  


With a soft cry Alec made his choice. He let go, released control and bucked up, driving deeper. His hands felt along her sinuous body, caressing the lithe muscled back and the small peaks of her breasts. He grabbed her hips and pulled her into his thrusts. He increased his pace, and at her cries of "more," increased them again, and again, until to normal eyes they would have been blurred. Alec had never felt the thrill of abandon, having always been so wary of his defect. But now he didn’t care. For the first time, ever, he gave in to his instincts.  


Alec felt the pressure built as he jack hammered into Max. He was too far gone to stop, even once he felt the tell-tale tickly sensation of the barbs emerging. With a last powerful thrust, he came, and the barbs set, increasing the intensity of the orgasm. His hands contracted in spasms with the force of his pleasure as he held tightly to Max’s hips and pulsed deep within her.  


"So close!" Max nearly sobbed. Alec sent a last pulse of come and before he, still led by instinct, and pulled out quickly. His cock raked her channel with its sharp spines. Max’s eyes flew wide in surprise and she came with a yell. Her body shuddered with the force of her climax and her eyes rolled back as she lost herself.  


He rolled over to lay beside her, with their legs still entangled, and he watched her face as the waves or her orgasm washed over her. For the first time it occurred to him that perhaps his curse wouldn't be a curse with the right partner. When she looked at him, he smiled.  


The force of her punch snapped his head to the side.  


"What the hell was that?" Max demanded. "A – A gift," Alec began, "from Manticore. Cat DNA. Kinda like yours, just the male version. I was going to tell you . . ."  


"But it what? Slipped your mind?" Oh, yeah, she was pissed off. She rolled and stretched then walked into the kitchen for a glass of water. He could easily see the feline in her movements, smooth and dangerous.  


"No! Well, yes, I guess, but—" He looked at her, wary, as she came back into the room,  


She surged into him, claiming his mouth with hers. Her skin still burned.  


"Again," she demanded.  


The banked spark of hope in his eyes flared up.

  


***

  


With a whoop Alec grabbed another fistful of money, as the Terminal City contestants prepared themselves. Alec spotted Max’s dark, lithe form over by the computer setup. It was hard, not watching her. It had been years since he'd not felt the bone-deep burn of being a genetic failure. But he managed to keep his attention on the impending fight, since a disruption of their usual behaviour towards each other would be the fastest way to ensure that it never happened again.  


They hadn’t spoken since Max left his apartment, much later than she had come. She seemed to be avoiding him. She looked better, less flushed, and not hitting on every guy that moved. Her heat must have passed, Alec thought. She'd said that they usually lasted a few days, but the repeated encounters this afternoon must have helped take the edge off. Despite her dislike of him, Max had initiated sec just as much as he had, and they had spent the rest of the night and most of the day fucking each other on every conceivable surface of his apartment. She’s sworn at him, and had gotten in a couple good punches each time his barbs emerged to scraped her vagina. Scream, punch, come, had been the pattern. There had been a couple bites thrown in for good measure. And they had played it over and over. Alec couldn’t hide his smile.  


"Hey Max," Alec called.  


Max declined his invitation to watch place a bet on the outcome of freaky white Arctic Boy versus freaky lizard Desert Man. Looking past her he spied Logan on the screen. Always Logan. He hid the twinge of disappointment with the ease of practice. He had known the score before hooking up. Hell, she had told him that it meant nothing. In the same breath she had gone on to profess that she was over Logan, and not to bring his name up again. He'd easily seen the lie in the last one, and had half-hoped that it applied to the former. His luck had never been great. Logan to love, and Alec to scratch an itch. He told himself that he was fine with it.  


Alec patted the key that still sat in his pocket. He imagined how he would tell his friend of the night's events. Biggs would have no end of jokes to tell at Max's expense. That simple thought made him smile without sadness for the first time in a couple days.  
A roar from the crowd behind him made him spin around and he pushed Max’s constant drama with Logan into the far corner of his mind. The winner of that ridiculous contest was parading around and the loser looked near violence. He grinned to think of how much money he’d just won. Biggs would have liked that too.

  


END

***

  



End file.
